


Flour

by FreddieFcknMercury



Category: Cable and Deadpool, Deadpool (Movieverse), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, BLM, Baking, Black Reader, Crying, Depression, Enby reader, F/M, Frustration, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, Mental Illness, Other, PTSD, Protests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27191381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreddieFcknMercury/pseuds/FreddieFcknMercury
Summary: Reader wanted to relax with some baking and things didn't go to plan.
Relationships: Cable & Reader, Cable/Black Reader, Cable/Reader, Nathan Summers & Reader, Nathan Summers/Black Reader, Nathan Summers/Reader
Kudos: 9





	Flour

**Author's Note:**

> this is literally how one particular 24 hour period of my life went and I'm really exhausted and it kinda feels like I'm losing my grasp of reality. Sorry this is technically another quarantine fic. But these protests are slowly wearing me down and I'm just so sad all the time.

It was late after work. 11pm. Nathan was already in bed but you couldn't sleep. You finally managed to get your hands on some yeast recently and there are several recipes you've been dying to try for the last few months. You get to work. Baking is scientific and meticulous and you've always loved that. Extra care and hard work actually paying off... or so you thought. You new something was wrong when you started to roll your sweet buns. The dough seemed lose but it wasn't too off from the video so you keep going. Once you try to cut them you knew you'd fucked up somewhere. They were sticky and a bit wet; they held their shape though so you popped them in the oven and hoped for the best.   
20 minutes in and they are already hard and developed no colour at all. The video wasn't too brown either so maybe they're okay? You proceed to frost them. It melts wonderfully and they actually look pretty good. You can tell as soon as you touch them though, they're a waste. They're cooked through, but too hard on the top. The texture on the inside is nice and soft but they taste like pure flour.   
What did I do wrong?  
You chalk it up to a bad internet video. They're notorious, you knew that going in. You scroll through your recipe board and find a soft bread you've been staring at all year. You set off once again. This time everything looks the way it's supposed to. Until you start the mixer...  
Its wet AGAIN.  
You add a bit more flour. There's always room for error with these things but no matter how long you mix it and how much flour it stays sticky and you don't want a repeat of the last bake. It's after 4am. You don't know where the time has gone and you've got nothing to show for these last few hours except failure. Nathan likes a 6am start. You frantically try to clean up before he wakes up and has a chance to catch you embarrassing yourself and wasting food...

You just wanted something fun to do for once. Something to help you relax and all it did was make you more angry. You're so stuck in your head frustrated you don't realise how loud you're being trying to scrub bowls and throw them in the cupboard. The noise wakes him up. 

You glance over at the doorway to him standing there with his arms crossed.   
"Sorry. I'm almost finished. Just go back to sleep."  
You pick up the pace trying to prove it to him but just end up stumbling around looking frantic and not at all convincing. 

He steps between you and the sink, grabbing your wrists to hold you in place, making you look at him. Your face is completely wet. You weren't sobbing so he didn't notice the tears til now. Whatever speech he had prepared was not gonna work with this. He sighs gently.  
"Breathe."  
You take a few deep shaky breaths. There's a brief orange glow and he drops your wrists when he feels your breathing level out.   
"Was this important to you?"

You choose the floor over eye contact and shrug.   
"Not really. I was trying to relax. Think about something other than..."

You gesture vaguely at the world but direct your attention towards the counter top and he takes a glance around. Your tablet is open to the recipe but split screen with the news covering protests. There's masks and the fabric to make them all over the place, as well as hand sanitiser.   
He wasn't here for this and it's not like anything he would say could make you feel less powerless, less useful, anyway.   
He steps in front of you and and takes a hand to press your forehead into his. He's solid, you hadn't realised you were trembling.   
"It will get better."


End file.
